


those wayward sons better carry on

by grayintogreen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Not even remotely canon compliant, also i love the lance of longinus and will waste no time putting it in a fic, and i stand by this nine years later, castiel and gabriel deserved to have capers together, set some nebulous time during season five, this was written in 2010 if that tells you literally anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 00:01:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20769137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayintogreen/pseuds/grayintogreen
Summary: Castiel finds himself in desperate need of an archangel. (Set during Season Five.)





	those wayward sons better carry on

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic I dug out of the old archives in the hopes of rescuing it before LJ decides to collapse in on itself at some point in the future. This was written sometime in the middle of Season Five and does NOT hold up to current canon at all. It doesn't even hold up to Season Five anymore. 
> 
> But we all love Gabriel and Castiel adventures, don't we? Of course we do.

Castiel has found himself in desperate need of an archangel.

It is a revelation that he does not accept without trepidation, as the list of archangels who don't want to kill him is an extremely short one, comprised of only one name, and the fact that he would prefer to never have to be in the presence of that angel again has nothing to do with his hesitation at tracking him down in pursuit of his goal- he has a feeling the conversation would go nowhere and waste valuable time. Upon further thinking, however, he realizes that not having an archangel at all is more of an imposition on his time than the act of tracking one down (whether it comes to nothing or not), and with his eyes turned up to Heaven, he throws caution to the wayside and bids the wind take him to his older brother.

It takes forty attempts before Castiel ever comes close. This is unsurprising, as Gabriel has spent most of his time on earth avoiding being found by other angels. Castiel, now that he's accepted this mission-within-a-mission, will not allow himself be deterred and deals with each misstep accordingly- simply trying harder the next time. It seems odd to think of an angel running out of time or having time be a precious commodity, but Castiel is painfully aware of each ticking second that he loses.

For every moment lost, Michael and Lucifer get closer to Dean and Sam.

By his last attempt, he is tired in a way that confuses him. Angels don't perceive exhaustion, but something weighs heavily on his mind and makes every step a painful one. He wonders if this is what angels whose vessels have started to fall apart under their weight feel like. If his Father did recreate his body after Raphael destroyed it, it should be far more whole than this, but he feels pieced together awkwardly. If he expressed this discomfort to Dean, he can imagine the boy would tell him that perhaps God has lost His touch. Castiel feels it may be more complex than that, but he dare not question the reasons. It is not his place and he has other issues to attend to.

He shoves open the door to the bar and is greeted to an intense smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke. A waitress eyes him as he walks in, but he steps away from her as she moves to brush against him, too focused for distractions he would have no need of anyway. Again, he can imagine what Dean would say were he standing here and the words are like a faint echo in the back of mind. It's almost comforting, but in a way that brings ill ease, as he should never have gotten so close to human charges that imagining them brings a sense of relief.

Dean would not approve of this endeavor, which is precisely why Dean does not know about it. Perhaps the presence of Dean's words in the back of his head are merely a sense of guilt- another emotion he once had no need of. It's another thing he has no desire to question.

There's raucous laughter from the back of the bar and Castiel's expression furrows into something full of intense displeasure and exasperation. The crowd parts for him like the Red Sea for Moses as he moves through it with careful deliberation, stopping just in front of a corner booth. Gabriel is in the middle, sandwiched between four women of dubious honor, unaware of everything around him. The two closest to him are showering him with an amount of affection that seems unsuited for a public place- in fact, several of the waitresses and a few of the patrons keep shooting them dark looks.

Gabriel is, of course, unfazed.

"Gabriel," Castiel says, without preamble. Naturally, his older brother ignores him in favor of kissing the woman on his right with a certain degree of fervor that suggests that he's intentionally ignoring Castiel's existence and likely trying to make him twitch.

One of the women at the edge of the booth tugs on his sleeve and he pulls his focus from Gabriel to her. She's petite and blonde with laughing eyes and would look innocent to a creature who couldn't see the amount of turmoil in her soul. "And who are you supposed to be?" She giggles, covering her mouth with her free hand.

"That's my kid brother," Gabriel announces before Castiel can answer. When he glances up, Gabriel has splayed his arms out behind him and around the necks of the two girls closest to him and looks far more amused than Castiel is entirely comfortable with. Instinctively, he keeps his eyes on Gabriel's fingers, even though he knows that the older angel doesn't have to even move to send him away.

"Does your brother want to join us?" The little blonde asks, tugging more insistently on Castiel's sleeve. He extricates his arm from her and ignores her pouting lips and the huffy sound she makes in protest.

"Nah. He bats for the other team, if you catch my drift."

Castiel does not 'catch his drift,' but clearly the girls do as they all look at him with disappointed eyes, as if seeing him in a new light, and finding that light wanting. Castiel has no time for these particular human trivialities, nor Gabriel's rampant sarcasm and fondness for jokes and his deadpan expression says as much.

"I need to speak with you," he says. "It's urgent."

Gabriel studies his fingernails and clicks his tongue. "No can do, bro. See I kinda promised these ladies-"

Castiel does not allow him to finish that sentence. "It's about the Lance."

The girls giggle and he catches snatches of innuendo lost in the haze of crowd noise- there are lots of people in this bar, all of their souls fighting to be heard and once he could have glossed them over without much thought, but now it seems overwhelming. He ignores it all, choosing, instead, to focus on Gabriel, who looks like he's swallowed something unpleasant.

"Ladies, I think I'm gonna have to rain check."

~*~

Gabriel was at the crucifixion- a lot of angels were, actually. Heck, it was a lot like angel Woodstock, except it wasn't much of a party. That was after he left, so he spent the entire time standing in a corner like that awkward girl who got dragged to a dance she never wanted to go to, hoping no one notices her and she can pass out of the party in peace. The last thing the crucifixion needed was a disobedient archangel turning into Carrie at the prom on the whole family. For the most part, he succeeded. Anafiel, of course, could find him across the universe and back if she wanted to and wouldn't be bothered to stay away if he asked her to.

Everyone and their brother claims to have a splinter from the cross that Jesus was crucified on, but fewer people claim they have the splintered remains of the Lance of Longinus, although Gabriel has, in fact, shoved it in the face of a few dickhead historians who tried to pass off their little sticks as pieces of one of the holiest items in the whole of history. The location of the true Lance is a secret kept by the highest order of angels and Gabriel just happens to be one of them, through a series of circumstances that he wouldn't explain no matter how many times he was asked.

He keeps his secrets well.

Outside the bar, Gabriel paces in furious circles, while Castiel stands unmoving and unblinking, although his eyes follow every step Gabriel takes. It's unnerving and, eventually, Gabriel pivots on his heels to face his younger brother. "You're distracting me."

Castiel looks befuddled, which isn't much of a change. His head tilts slightly to the side. "From what?"

Gabriel's answer isn't much of one. He flails a hand in broad circles. "You're staring. Do you ever blink? You've been in that vessel for about two years now and you don't even know how the eyelids work."

"We don't have time-"

Gabriel makes a pfft sound to cut Castiel off before he can finish that sentence. Time is relative and whatever Blues Brothers- inspired mission his kid brother's on doesn't exactly make him want to bounce up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. He's in no hurry, except to get it all over with, and no one wants to listen to his plan, even if it's the only plan that'll diminish casualties on all sides. But noo, everyone's gotta get a stick up their asses, because Mike and Lucy's prom dresses are, apparently, popular members of society.

Whatever.

"I thought you were tryin' to find Daddy? Did the complete hopelessness of the situation finally fall down on that... Way-too intense skull of yours?" He twirls his finger, drawing circles in midair around Castiel's head.

"They're related."

One of Gabriel's eyebrows vanishes somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. "....How is finding the world's holiest pointy object even slightly related to your snipe hunt?"

For a moment, Castiel looks uncomfortable in a way that actually makes it look like he's emoting, which is a shock to Gabriel. "...There's a way to summon our Father. It's... Dangerous and potentially fatal. It's also impossible without the Lance."

"And you think I know where it is?" Gabriel's trying hard not to laugh at that plan- really, he is. There's something so adorable about Castiel's faith, even when everyone can see his Grace is slipping away from him. Then again, saying as much would make him out to be a hypocrite, considering he's barely holding onto his Grace with both hands, even if it doesn't look like it.

"I know you do."

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "That don't mean I'm gonna tell you."

"Not even if it means the end of the Apocalypse?" Castiel's voice lilts at the end, like the words are a mocking accusation and the hairs at the back of Gabriel's neck stand on end and his fingers itch to come together and bring forth some grandiose display of power. He resists the temptation by shoving them into his pocket- sometimes he likes the drama of bringing everything down with just a snap that he forgets that it's not necessary.

"You don't know that," he points out, narrowing hazel eyes and staring up at the intense, neutral expression of his younger brother. He'd resent that Castiel's taller than him, but he chose this form, specifically. He likes it- short or not. "I show up in the Holy Land and I'm gonna end up behind six hundred seals."

There's a long silence from Castiel, before he says, "They likely wouldn't need that many to contain you."

~*~

Castiel knows very little of Gabriel.

It seems strange how true that is. Gabriel is one of the highest orders of angels and even the humans know his deeds and exploits. By all rights, Castiel should know more about him than he knows about all his brothers, but Gabriel is elusive, mysterious, slippery, and everything Castiel believes he knows about him is no longer true of this broken creature that wears a Trickster's skin. The Messenger is a faded memory, a bit of angelic folklore. He is more 'pleasant idea' than 'actual fact.'

Castiel believes he should hate him, simply because of his attitude, his callous disregard for Heaven, and the fact that he trapped and tortured himself, Dean, and Sam. The truth is, he hates Gabriel because Gabriel still has his Grace. He's fallen as far as an angel can fall without actually hitting the ground and still his Grace exists, burning steady and powerful. Castiel's fingers slip over his and every second that passes by, he feels like one day it might be gone entirely.

Perhaps he's racing the clock to keep his Grace through all this and not because he thinks the clock is counting down to an inevitable Apocalypse. Once he slips and falls, he won't be able to help anymore. This has to end before it gets that far.

He does not want Gabriel's help, but the only thing that can walk into the secret places of the Holy Land where the Lance is kept is a true angel, one still touched and embraced by Heaven, as he seems to no longer be anymore. Castiel has no concept of what is and isn't fair, because it's too painfully human, but if he did, this would rankle him.

Gabriel's uneasy the moment they set foot in the Holy Land, although he's trying not to show it. Castiel knows that for all his brother is good at hiding, he isn't perfect. Flickers of weakness get through- more now since the Winchesters bound him in holy fire and drove him out of hiding. Not that he has any memory of his elder brother when they were both in Heaven, so he has no way to compare, but it seems true.

He does not know why Gabriel agreed, although if he were to venture a guess, it would be to irk him.

Dudael is their final destination. It is the pit where their Father ordered Azazel to be bound hand and foot to await Judgment Day. Lucifer's first act of treachery was to free Azazel from his prison and corrupt him, twisting him into a demon to become the Adam to Lilith's Eve- Castiel knows the stories well. He has no concept of time or age, but he knows he is young enough to have likely never experienced these events.

The Lance was placed there as a way to purify the pit of Lucifer's corruption, and then warded to keep demons and humans away.

Gabriel circles the wards, his drawling voice rolling over the Enochian. Castiel watches him with interest, wondering if it's difficult being an angel again, after so long in hiding as a Trickster. Then again, it seemed so easy for Anna to pick up and be an angel once more when she found her Grace.

It is a very good thing that Castiel doesn't believe in jealousy.

~*~

He left because he hated the fighting. Anafiel Fell because she was bored and tired of it all. Castiel didn't so much fall as tripped over an ottoman and faceplanted into the carpet with absolutely no clue how the heck he got there.

No wonder Castiel's the one who's such a buzzkill- take a slip like that and you're bound to be all kinds of no fun.

Gabriel leads them both into the pit with very little in the way of commentary, which Castiel probably finds a relief. Truth is, he's terrified like a little girl and he's too busy glancing over his shoulder at every movement in the darkness. He knows that the minute those wards come down, half the heavenly hosts are gonna raise sixty kinds of Cain all over them. Two rebel angels stealing the Lance from its sacred place in the same place where two Fallen made their treacherous alliance is about as poetic as it gets. Poetically dead, that is.

Dean hit the nail on the head when he said he was scared, but that little prick has never met a bunch of higher echelon angels with vengeance on their mind. He loves his family more than anything, but half the time, he doesn't like a damn one of them.

Still, he's here. If only because he's fresh out of bright ideas and if Castiel worked that hard to find him, the persistent asshole will keep looking for him and it's just not fun locking him up anymore. And if this boneheaded summoning ritual of Castiel's actually works... Well, he has a few things he'd like to say to the Old Man.

"I feel like Indiana Jones," Gabriel mutters, his vessel's eyes adjusting to the darkness as he moves towards the place where the Lance is kept. Castiel is silent and Gabriel has to actually glance behind him to see if he's even still there. The younger angel is all wide-eyed with wonder, like a kid at Disneyland and he just rolls his eyes and scoffs at him.

Gabriel's too far gone to be stricken by holiness anymore. It's all just heavenly white noise to him.

"There it is," he says, stopping just short of a stone platform. "For the record, I still think you're pretty much insane."

Gabriel remembers this when it was new. He stood and watched as they dragged Azazel down here and bound him, and then lost it when Lucifer declared his allegiances and set Azazel free again. They always said that Azazel would get the fire in the end- turns out, he got a lot sooner than everyone expected. The entire history of angels is bloody, horrific, and painful, and people wonder why he hides, why he wants no part of this anymore.

The Lance is sitting on the stone, unprotected, like some piece of abandoned junk- just the spearhead, coated with dried blood, and a splinter of the shaft remaining. It seems too good to be true, which is because it is- the wards were there to keep it protected and once those crashed and burned, the angels will be looking to figure out who broke them. No one's supposed to be down here.

He has yet to inform Castiel of this.

There's probably a reward in it, if he just leaves Castiel here to be captured. He gets to go free, maybe wins a Golden Ticket back into Heaven if he really wants it, but that makes him no better than Michael and Lucifer. He may have skipped out of Heaven, but he didn't betray anyone. He's a sight better than half his family. Maybe that's why he's still got his Grace.

Doesn't really explain why Castiel's losing his. Maybe Daddy just loves him more.

Castiel looks from Gabriel to the Lance, clearly suspicious. It figures. Castiel grows a brain at precisely the wrong moment. Meanwhile, Gabriel's sitting here ticking down the seconds until this place starts looking like a warzone.

"You didn't come here to stare at it," he says, urging Castiel forward. The younger angel finally wraps his fingers around the Lance and lifts it off the stone, stepping back, and looking seemingly puzzled when nothing happens.

A moment later, the ground shakes unpleasantly. "So I forgot to mention the family reunion part," Gabriel drawls.

The look on Castiel's face makes the fact that he kept silent until now worth it.

~*~

According to the story, the Romans planned to break Christ's legs to hasten the speed of his death, only to find that he had already died. To make certain, a Roman soldier named Longinus stepped forward and pierced his side with a spear. Lore says that the spear can pierce anything, because it has the blood of Christ on it. Out of respect, no one has ever tried to use it as such.

Castiel believes it has more to do with fear, than respect.

There are four angels and Castiel recognizes them as three sentinels and one higher echelon angel, just below the archangels. Raphael and Zachariah are not among them, which he sees as a mixed blessing, but any of his brothers are just as bad as another these days. Remiel, the leader, wears the skin of a tall, hawk-nosed woman with her dark hair pulled back in a long, thick braid, and her gray-green eyes are all on Gabriel. Castiel can't help but think she almost looks heartbroken.

Gabriel doesn't twitch under her scrutiny, but Castiel can feel a certain edge of anxiety to his older brother. "Hey, sis," he says, somehow calm despite himself. "How goes it?"

"Gabriel, what is that vessel?" Remiel's heartbreak has shifted to half-disgusted and half-amused.

The other archangel purses his lips and tugs on his shirt, taking great care to look over every inch of his vessel. "Oh this old thing? Trickster god. Human vessels are so gauche, Remy. Get with the times."

Remiel's lips curl back away from her teeth in a smile that looks more like a snarl. "I didn't want to believe the rumors. You were one of the finest in our garrison and now..."

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Now I'm a walking blasphemy, not fit to walk to earth, and I should prepare to die? That how it goes? Hm?"

Castiel feels as if he's become the third wheel in this conversation and debates the merits of flitting off with the Lance and leaving Gabriel to this as punishment for not warning him that coming here would bring the angels down on them. He can't bring himself to do it, for some reason, and it puzzles him. Gabriel is not his friend, even if he is his brother. He is merely using him to get the Lance, which, when put in those terms, seems remarkably cold- another concept he had no need of until he met Dean and Sam.

And despite what Gabriel did to him, previously, he did get him this far.

There is nothing beautiful about angels fighting each other. They are warriors, born for battle, and if given the right enemy to fight, they are magnificent to behold, but when they turn against each other, it's like watching someone destroy beauty, itself. The pit does not lend itself to battle well and every so often, Castiel hits a jagged wall and feels pain rip through his borrowed muscles. He is not suited for this type of battle anymore, as cut off as he is- wounds stay too long and are slow to heal- but he tries anyway, keeping a firm hold on the Lance, but never thinking of using it.

Castiel sinks to the ground after his fifth encounter with the wall and cannot get up fast enough. The three sentinels advance on him, only to vanish inexplicably into thin air. Instinctively, he searches out Gabriel who gives him a look that Castiel misunderstands, at first, because the alternative from Gabriel is unthinkable, but when he hesitates and stares, the older angel growls in frustration. "Move your ass, you idiot," he snaps, carefully enunciating each syllable.

Remiel reappears, having vanished with the other sentinels, but far too strong to be held by Gabriel's power for too long, and slams Gabriel against the nearest wall. Castiel no longer hesitates and the impulsiveness of the action he takes surprises him in the aftermath. He runs at Remiel and slams the Lance into her back.

Her passing lights up the entire pit.

~*~

Gabriel can't stop laughing. Castiel is looking at him like he's possibly lost his mind and he doesn't even care. He's sprawled on the pavement of an empty basketball court, face turned to the sky, and he's howling with laughter. "We are so dead."

And it bothers him that he just watched one of his sisters die and, eventually, the battle lust and whatever passes for adrenaline with angels will wear off and leave him hollow, but for now, he'll enjoy the rush.

Castiel is, per usual, much more somber. When he doesn't respond to Gabriel's laughter, the archangel has to roll over onto his side to get a good look at him. "...You're really killing my buzz right now. You know that, right?"

The look he gets in return says, in no uncertain terms, that Castiel probably doesn't know that and nor does he care. The younger angel stares at the bloodied and broken spear in his hands. "It was all for nothing," he notes. "It's been tainted now."

"Castiel, this was a stupid plan before you used that thing on Remiel," Gabriel says, scrambling to his feet. "You can't crap out on it now."

Truth be told, Gabriel didn't have faith in this plan from the beginning, but now that they've nearly died over it, it seems like it'd be pointless to just call the whole thing a bust. Castiel, however, doesn't look convinced by this logic.

Gabriel's jaw drops. "....So help me, I will end you if I got my ass kicked for nothin'."

"You saved me," Castiel notes, because that's the important thing here. He still hasn't stopped looking at the Lance in his hands.

"Yep."

Castiel looks up at him, brows knit slightly. "Why?"

Gabriel waves a hand vaguely, clearly eager to just brush it off. Sentimentality doesn't look good on him and harping on the fact that he saved his killjoy kid brother and let him kill one of his sisters, in the process, doesn't put him in the best mood. "I dunno. It seemed like a good idea at the time? You're the one who iced Remiel with your magic Jesus stick to save me, bucko." For a moment, he looks like he's swallowed something slightly unpleasant at so casually referencing Remiel's passing, but he chokes it down.

Yeah. Sentimentality doesn't look good on him, but he's the one who gets choked up when he thinks of his family dying, while Castiel just stands there and looks utterly unflappable. He's the one who gets girlcrushes on humans and wanders around playing the sainted guardian like a fluffy little Precious Moments angel with street cred, but Gabriel's the one who suffers silently for the bloodshed.

He didn't want any part of this damn war. What in the world possessed him to throw down his gauntlet?

Because there's probably no other way.

And why Castiel?

Because, like it or not, with Anafiel MIA, there's not an angel in all of Heaven who knows what it feels like to be exiled and hunted. He's stuck with the little buzzkill, because they're more alike than Gabriel's entirely comfortable with. And, unlike the Hatfields and the McCoys, Castiel's actually trying to take some initiative, even if it's probably the stupidest plan ever. It's better than his tactic of hiding somewhere until it all blows over.

It's better than standing around and being afraid of your own damn family.

Gabriel starts walking, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Don't you have a call to make, Castiel?"

He looks back, just briefly, to see Castiel staring at the Lance one more time, before he finally flits off. Once he's gone, Gabriel stops at the edge of the basketball court and frowns at the spot where his brother was just standing. After a moment, he turns his eyes up to the starry sky and sighs.

"If you're not a complete dick, Dad, you'll come when he calls."

He rolls his eyes, more at himself, than anything, and then flits off, himself.


End file.
